What's Your Color: Palette
by sydney.garnto
Summary: "It is scary, how real we become when faced with tragedy." Vocaloid has become a huge and popular sensation around the globe, our virtual idols give us the music that we have longed for, but not the tangible stars that we are accustomed to... until now. Science has found a way and something that seemed so improbable has become a reality. Loosely based on the songs by Yuyoyuppe.
1. Chapter 1

1

"What's Your Color?"

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I do not own Vocaloid, any of its programs, or characters.

Please review. Your feedback helps to make better writers.

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Luka:

It is scary, how real we become when faced with tragedy. When we can no longer pretend to belong to some life other than that of this hollow world. Its fragile structure, destined to all comes crashing down with deafening sound when you least expect it, and the whole world in all it's glory becomes dead to our simple minds. If only one of those simple minds belonged to me. Sadness could just be another fleeting human emotion and love would be forgotten. Sweet memories of youthful embrace lost with age, disregarded for the sake of your own mental health. Life again takes it toll, leaving personal sorrow out of it's bitter equation. And on and on without a care it spins, leaving so many behind. Why won't it leave me behind? Will it not leave me to my self pity? Why does life still stick with and give me fresh grief, keeping me wrapped in its constricting embrace? Please let me dissolve into nothingness. I cannot remain, trapped here, with a false face to mask the pain. Let me go. I need to see him once more.

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This is only a prologue, next chapter should be much longer. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

"Quietly I try to laugh..."

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Andrew:

_This is only but a painting…_

_This is only but a painting…_

_This is only but a painting!_

_This is too much!_

His mind realed at the thought of it all. This was too much pressure for him to bear.

It really shouldn't have even mattered. These meetings happened every month. It wasn't like they were researching for no purpose. They had set due dates and guidelines.

Everyone at the company had a similar education. They all had a pretty vast knowledge of technology. The only difference in their departments were the level of artistic potential. He worked in design. It was the more creative and, somewhat, fun department but they still had their moments. Specifically, the most boring of these moments consisted of the meetings. Reports and numbers, the labeling of their value as a department. They had to prove how their research had been improving in some way. Usually by this time they would have a finished product or prototype for the monthly update.

_Ha! No, not this time, we have nothing!_ He silently grieved over the fact to himself.

They had only theories, concepts, and silly artwork. He was screwed.

_Why hadn't we just focused on our own work? _He cursed himself.

"Mr. Reon?" The secretary turned to look at him, "Mr. Bartlett will see you."

"Um… yes… I'll be right there."

"Please hurry" She stared coldly, "Mr. Bartlett is a very busy man."

"Yes, I understand." He rushed to gather his materials that had been scattered on the table.

The secretary started to tap her blood red nails on the table. "He has two other meeting within the hour."

"Of course, sorry."

_What a bitch._

After gathering everything into a cluttered heap, he followed the impatient woman down the hall.

The hallway was a long corridor that lead down to an elaborate set of double doors. The side on his left held framed mementoes of the company's achievements over the years and the right was completely made of glass. The view from the window was a panoramic vista of the L.A. skyline. The early morning mixture of normal fog and smog caressed the giant skyscrapers like a cloak. It dominated his vision as he walked down the hall. They looked like creatures rising and growing out of the smoke and ashes of the city. He could only stop and gaze with wonder.

Leaving him behind, the secretary opened the doors at the end and sauntered in.

"Mr. Bartlett, sir, your eight o'clock appointment is ready to present."

"Ah, send them in, Charlotte."

Waking out of his stupor, he scurried over to where the secretary stood.

Bartlett's office held an even more stunning view than the hallway. Windows lined three of the four walls and they captured an almost clear view of the ocean in the distance. It was like being on top of the world.

"So you are from the design department, I assume." Mr. Bartlett stood up and walked to them.

"Yes sir, it is a delight to meet you in person." They shook hands. "I am Andrew Reon, the new senior manager of the body design department."

Mr. Bartlett moved to sit in a chair by the further set of windows. "Yes, I know." He gestured towards the canvases that Andrew held. "And those are the version 5.3 plans?"

_Here we go, _Andrew gathered up his courage, " Well… not exactly."

"What do you mean by 'not exactly'" Mr. Bartlett stiffened his posture.

"Well we had some miscommunication at the beginning of the project and our work went off on a different tangent."

"So you didn't finish the month's assignment."

"No, sir, we didn't" Andrew tried to avoid eye contact.

"How much longer do you expect to take?"

"We don't know as of yet, sir."

"Well, what do you have done?"

"We didn't actually… um…" He paused and caught sight of Charlotte's glare. "Well… we didn't work on the version 5.3 body at all."

Silence filled the room for what seemed a lifetime before anyone spoke again.

Mr. Bartlett spoke up after some time. "Charlotte would you please leave."

"Yes sir."

Andrew could hear the sound of her clicking heels as they disappeared down the hallway before the door completely shut behind charlotte.

"Do you understand what your department's negligence will cause for the other departments?" Mr. Bartlett tone was sharp. "It will delay this update by possibly another month."

"We are truly sorry for the inconvenience."

"You are the department head, you should know better."

"Yes, I should" Andrew could feel himself shrinking away from the man's anger. "We... I will do better next time." He corrected himself

"You had better." Mr. Bartlett sat down again. "Now what 'miscommunication' caused the entire department to screw up this badly."

"It was the email that you had sent out," Andrew fished a printed copy of it from his pocket. "we thought it was meant for us and we only just realized our mistake this morning when you demanded the version 5.3 plans." He handed the copy over to Mr. Bartlett.

The cruel face of the older man carefully scanned the page that Andrew had handed him. His face slowly changed while reading the document. His once angry scowl turned into a face of surprise confusion.

Mr. Bartlett turned his face and meet Andrew's eyes. "Do you mean to tell me that you completed this task?"

"Yes, just about, we are just seeking approval on a few more items."

"And it didn't bother you at all that this was a completely different line of work?"

"We just figured that you were giving us a break, sir."

"No," Mr. Bartlett started to scroll through his computer. "but you do seem to have gotten lucky."

"How so?" Andrew said, now thoroughly confused.

"Well, for one, that email wasn't supposed to even be sent to any department for a few more months."

"And that makes me lucky?"

"No," Bartlett gave him an amused look. "what makes you lucky is your new found involvement in project Luka."


End file.
